


Proposition

by kueble



Series: Cast a Spell for Your Demon [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Demons, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kueble/pseuds/kueble
Summary: How a bard ends up following a demon.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Cast a Spell for Your Demon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021537
Comments: 18
Kudos: 187





	Proposition

Scooping stale bread off the floor isn’t exactly how he’d imagined spending his time after graduation, but Jaskier wasn’t about to pass up a free meal. This crowd is kind of shit, anyway. No one appreciates true talent anymore. He’s about to head to the bar to spend the last of his coin on an ale when he spots him across the room.

A demon.

Jaskier grins and saunters over, taking in his appearance as he goes. The demon looks grumpy, but that’s never stopped him before. Two small black horns stick up from the silver hair that’s half pulled back, the rest left to curl around his shoulders. What’s really striking is the wings though. Jaskier’s never met a demon who displayed them so openly; most kept them hidden with their own magical skill or a borrowed glamour. This man obviously doesn’t care, just sits there drinking in the corner with his large black wings framing his figure in a way that was downright unfair. The dichotomy of the pale hair against his dark wings made Jaskier’s mouth water.

“I love how you just sit in the corner and brood,” Jaskier quips as he reaches the table. The stranger takes a long sip of his ale and glares at him.

“Fuck off, bard,” he growls. And gods, that deep voice makes Jaskier shiver, caresses his spine like a talented lover. He simply must have more.

“Let’s not be hasty, my good sir. My name is Jaskier, and I have a proposition for you,” Jaskier tells him, sliding onto the bench across from him. 

“Plenty of lust demons out there if you’re looking to fuck a demon,” he grunts out.

“Obviously,” Jaskier agrees, waving a hand in the air, “I spent a long winter curled up with one in Oxenfurt. She has the loveliest hands. I kept her well-fed that season...” he trails off, remembering nights spent by a warm fire, tangled up in even warmer arms, before he remembers what he was doing and shakes his head. “No matter. One can only be told they’re incredible - just _made to fuck_ \- so many times before it gets old. That’s not what I’m after here.”

“Vengeance,” the stranger tells him solemnly. Jaskier tilts his head, waiting for the demon to continue but he doesn’t look like he will.

“Wha?” Jaskier asks, gesturing for him to continue.

“I’m a vengeance demon. I figured that was your next question. You have to summon me if you want my services, and I’m not giving you my name so good luck with that,” he says, chuckling into his ale.

“Very good to know, but _also_ not what I’m after,” Jaskier tells him, grinning before he continues. “You look like a man, er, demon, with a story. Look like you’re chock full of them, actually. And it just so happens that I am very much in need of a muse at the moment. I’m done with lusty ditties. I want an adventure - a ballad - and that seems like it’s right up your alley.”

“Again, fuck off.” He chugs the rest of his ale and stands up, and that just won’t do. 

Jaskier jumps up and follows him out the tavern’s door, quickening his steps to keep up with his long strides. Maybe he should rethink the whole sex thing, because the demon’s wings are curled up against his back, leaving just enough space between them for Jaskier to watch his tail sway as he walks away from him. If the demon has even half as much skill with that tail as the lust demon did, he’s in for a real treat. Jaskier shakes his head, because all in good time, and trots after him.

“I think you’ll find I can be very persuasive!” Jaskier calls after him. 

Suddenly the demon stops and grumbles, “fuck.” There’s a dark cloud around his legs, and Jaskier has half a second to think _he’s being summoned_ before he reaches out and wraps his arms around the demon’s chest. His skin lights up, tingling in a way it’s never done before, and then everything goes black.

\--

When Jaskier comes to, he realizes that his head hurts and he can’t move his arms. He tugs at his wrists frantically before realizing that he’s tied up. He looks around the room - cave? - and spots the demon talking to an elf. His head is throbbing, and he has to focus to hear what they’re saying, but he’s alive so that must bode well.

“You didn’t have to break his lute,” the demon spits out, glaring at the elf. “He’s just a bard.”

“Well sorry if I didn’t think dealing with demons would be this easy. Didn’t know you’d have your own human either,” the elf states, and the way he says _human_ makes Jaskier’s skin crawl.

“You’ll replace it,” the demon says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“He can have mine. Less to travel with,” the elf says, gesturing at one of the other elves, who scurries out of the cave.

The demon nods sharply at the elf, who seems bored with the whole affair. Then he’s walking across the cave, grumbling under his breath as he stares down at Jaskier. He squats down and holds up a hand. Jaskier watches in fascination as his nails lengthen and sharpen into long black claws. He reaches behind Jaskier and swipes at the ropes holding him hostage. They fall from his wrists and Jaskier mumbles out a quick, “thank you,” before he’s grabbed under the armpits and hauled up to his feet.

The demon leads him to the mouth of the cave where one of the elves thrusts a lute into his hands before scowling at him and stepping back quickly. Jaskier manages not to drop it and holds it tightly to his chest as he chases after the demon. He waits until they’re a safe distance away before the questions start.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks loudly, spreading his arms wide.

“That was Filavandrel and his loyal supporters,” the demon says roughly. “And you are a complete fucking moron. Don’t grab me again. You could have been killed!”

“But I wasn’t, was I? So let’s move on to the part where you tell me about our thrilling adventure,” Jaskier blurts out hopefully.

“Our adventure? You got hit over the head with a rock and tied up while I talked the king of the fucking elves into _not_ using me to bring an end to the entire village,” the demon spits out. He turns around to glare at Jaskier, but he’s so intense, so gorgeous in his rage, that Jaskier merely shrugs it off and winks at him.

“Isn’t vengeance kind of your thing, though?” Jaskier questions him. The demon sighs and stops walking, turning to face Jaskier.

“I got a decent enough meal by feeding off their rage. They have every right to be angry at the village, but I don’t like being used like that. Not when there are ways to avoid it. The villagers aren’t even the humans who took their land, they’re just the ones who moved in once the battle was over. The elves are moving on, looking for land to start anew on,” he says, sounding off put by the whole thing.

“So you’re a demon with a conscience?” Jaskier scoffs at him.

“I’m a demon who doesn’t relish in being told what to do.”

“Valid,” Jaskier agrees with him. “I think I’ll enjoy travelling with you! I can’t wait to see the ballads you inspire.”

“I am not keeping you,” the demon argues. Jaskier just grins at him, and the demon rolls his eyes and starts walking.

“I promise I’ll grow on you!” Jaskier calls out as he follows him.

“Like mold,” the demon grumbles. 

“See? We get along already, demon of mine,” Jaskier says, falling into step beside him.

“Geralt.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier questions.

“Geralt, not demon,” he says quickly, the corners of his mouth twitching in what Jaskier thinks might be the start of a smile.

“Well Geralt, you better start sharing the details of your conquest or I will have to make them up myself,” Jaskier tells him brightly. Geralt lets out what Jaskier assumes to be a negative _hmm_ and keeps walking. 

Oh well. He’ll just have to make sure he stays awake for the next adventure. He tugs at the shoulder strap and brings Filavandrel’s lute to his front and looks down at it. It’s a sexy thing, isn’t it? All golden and _fancy_. Jaskier starts strumming a simple melody and lets the words write themselves.

_Cast a spell for your demon, oh valley of plenty._

**Author's Note:**

> Come play with me on [ Tumblr](https://kueble.tumblr.com/)


End file.
